Word: pulping
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...there is the music of Schumann, Brahmns, and Liszt as a backbone to hold up the pulp surrounding it. At certain points, "Song of Love" reveals immense potentialities for the development of screen musical biographics in terms of a blind audience. This is a step forward. Forgetting the Kern and Porter films, one may look with encouragement at the progress made from the lives of chopin, Schubert, and Gershwin to that of Schumann. Auditory progress, to be sure, but still progress...
...Hothouse. The Norwegians wanted textiles, offered timber and wood pulp in exchange. Belgium wanted wheat for plate glass. Italy wanted metals for fruit and human labor. Every morning a truck delivered to the economists more than half a ton of paper which by nightfall was covered with figures and graphs recording Europe's needs and resources. In the glass-topped Grand Palais, which looked and felt like a hothouse, electric fans set small siroccos swirling over the delegates' heads. The temperature neared 100° F. Sighed a policeman: "It sure takes guts to work in there...
...President. The modern forester behind all this is John Philip Weyerhaeuser Jr., 48, greying grandson of the company's founder. Last week Phil Weyerhaeuser was elected president of Weyerhaeuser Timber Co., top company of the sprawling family interests which include sawmills, pulp mills and ocean-going steamers (President H. H. Irvine died last winter). A Yale graduate and a member of the Yale battery during World War I, he went to work for the company in 1920, concentrated on conservation measures. He started the firm on selective cutting of trees, later got it to branch out into research...
...bunkhouse, 70 men lounged on the benches or in the double-decker bunks, reading pulp magazines by the dull oil lamps. The rafters over the hot stoves were festooned with drying socks. As soon as the poker players cleared the cards and money from the table, the minister set up his small silver cross and two candles and began to talk...
...capsule descriptions of Harvard students is the one that says they are as varied as men can be. This otherwise applicable generalization breaks down sensationally twice a year, however, with the coming of exam time, when the actions of Harvard men are as rigidly conventionalized as those of a pulp story hero. Almost uniformly, they lash themselves into a delirium of anxiety, committing breaches of form by buttonholing complete strangers from their courses and asking their thoughts on possible test questions, and scuttling busily in and out of bookstores seeking condensations of course material or outlines on How To Study...